Fall Wonderings

Photo Credit: Shoutout to Alex Motoc

Fourteen years ago today, I gave birth to a perfect and beautiful son, David Carl.

My third son.

My heart’s desire.

When a child is born still, our state writes no birth certificate and signs no death certificate.

It is as if the child never existed.

But no worries.

The hospital gave me a stuffed bear to carry home.

As if the gaping emptiness of my heart could be so easily filled.

You can read the whole story here.

Fall

It happened again.
October.

I hate October—
acrid leaves,
dying,
death.

My chest hurts
from breathing.

I try to forget.

But the accuracy
and tenacity
of the body
to remember
what the mind
wishes to forget
holds on.

I kept looking
at the clock,
wondering when
it would end.

I remembered
watching the clock
as my body strained
wondering when
it would end—

knowing how it would end.
Wishing it would just end.
Trying to remember,
hoping to forget.

But that’s not how it works;
I had to learn how to work
the angles of grief.

Every October
I fall into myself
like cliff diving
without water,

and I measure my worth
in treasures of memory.

—cjpjordan

Wonder

I wonder if he would have eyes the color of the sea.

I wonder if he would devour books instead of read them.

I wonder if he would prefer running outdoors or playing legos indoors.

I wonder if he would like mushrooms and tomatoes and mashed potatoes.

I wonder if he would be a music lover and a story teller.

I wonder if Evan would be different with a sibling close in age.

I wonder....everything.

All I will ever do is wonder.

I never saw the color of his eyes or read him books or cooked him a meal or sang him to sleep or heard his voice.

Even so, David lives.

He lives in my memory as an unfulfilled dream--
a set of wonderings--
until I see him again one day.

He lives in my heart
as the eternal hope
of my Eternal Hope.

—cjpjordan

The Best Is Yet to Come

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Photo Credit: my beautiful children and grandchildren

And so it was and so it is that the best is yet to come.

The best is always yet to come.

Motherhood is always mingled with darkness and light. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

My children have seen me at my mountain top best and my rock bottom worst. I have muddled my way through motherhood, making mistakes, overreacting, under-reacting, discovering the many sides of myself. But no matter the mistakes I made, my children beckoned me into their lives and loved me unconditionally.

For me, loving my children unconditionally was as involuntary as breathing. I adore them all, but beyond that I like them. And I feel the same about their chosen partners.

The interplay between them is amicable and hilarious, a little bit jabbing, and a lot bit loving. They know one another’s weaknesses and strengths. They play on them and lean into them as well.

The particular intensity of motherhood has not been lost on me. And now I get to enjoy the fruits of all those years as I watch my beautiful children begin to raise their own families. Grandparenting is the best of all worlds.

So you see? The best is always yet to come! I can’t wait to see what comes next!

First Time

Walking in to Walmart
that hot summer day
I wondered if everyone knew
I wondered if everyone saw
the marks of motherhood
on my body.

I am a mom.
A mom.


Surreal and hyper real.

Like no sleep in days
dripping faucet breasts real.

Like can’t sit down without a pillow real.

Like worried sick I’ll do the wrong thing real.

Like a tiny human now totally dependent on me for survival real.

I wondered
in that moment
what our life
would be like—
I wondered who
that tiny human
would become.

Today I look down at my body
forever changed,
forever marked by motherhood

I look at my grown children
and their beautiful lives
and their beautiful loves

I look at my Little Wonder
growing up too quickly
wise beyond his years

and I know
the answer:

the best was yet to come.

—A Draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Happy Mother’s Day to you and your mothers. Even if you aren’t a mother, you made someone a mother so YAY YOU!

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 25

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Check out this amazing time lapse video by Thomas Nelson found in this great little article about meteor showers.
https://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_5405066?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000043&ir=Science

The prompt for today was to write an “occasional” poem—a poem suited to, or written for, a particular occasion.

So I decided to write about a few memorable occasions. Welcome a few of my favorite memories.

Magic of Moments

I will never forget
the magic of his arrival,
relating not so much
to the nature of life,
but to the heart
of love itself—
a powerful catapult
a dance of irrevocable joy,
an electrifying connection,
an explosion of love.

Like the day
I saw her
come my way,
unfettered and
underestimated,
free wheeling and
free thinking, unbound
by convention
without an ounce
of pretension.

Like the moment
when a thousand
meteors exploded
in the august sky,
when wispy green fairies
twirled their skirts
behind the northern lights.

Like when the hawk
spread his wings
above our heads,
leading the way into
the flaming birch forest.

How can anyone not
believe in magic—
the humdrum, mundane
everyday magic of life?

—- A Draft Poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Let me know your favorite moments in the comments below.